Castle amid the pyramids
by AmberAnubis
Summary: HPXMummies Alive. After 4th book. Presley is in danger! Voldemort wants Rapses' soul and Scarab’s helping him. Presley and the Mummies are sent to Hogworts, but is even that safe enough? With help from 3 magic users, it might be.
1. I saw King Tut walking down Bank Street

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mummies Alive. I do own Leigh, and semi-own Jillian (whom is also owned by Jibs and is named in her honour) and Estelle._

**Chapter 1: I saw King Tut walking down Bank Street**

Magic lived deep in the shadowed grey wells of Leigh Goodfellow's eyes. It's pulsed and flowed through every vain in the young woman's body. Friends laughed good-naturedly at her, paradoxically calling her an odd mundane.

However, Leigh was not mundane…

Leigh Goodfellow walked down Back Street, pushing her slightly longer than shoulder length red hair out of her face. She shifted her nearly-but-not-just-quite-yet-full backpack into a more comfortable position. Had she missed any thing? Ink, Jillian's new spell book, several packages of loose leaf lined paper, powdered mandrake for Estelle, a new copy of Charles de Lint's 'Moonhart' (_someone_ had spilt coffee all over her last one and still hadn't owed up -but she had found ten bucks on her dresser with a note saying 'Sorry'), cream cheese, some of the materials needed for amulet making, red thread, bandages and a tube of toothpaste… She knew she was missing something! _Think, Leigh! Come on, what was it?_

It continued to elude her as she turned off Riverdell onto Bank Street. And through she was thinking about it hard, the missing item was completely driven from her mind when she looked up to a peculiar sight (peculiar even for Ottawa); a man dressed in linen, strips of it wrapped around his body, the rich gold and jewelled ornaments he wore offsetting his unadorned white clothing. He was talking to a eight-foot-tall, bear like creature, who seemed to be wearing little more than a tee-shirt with the 'Bud Light' logo across the front and his own shaggy brown pelt (which was thankfully sufficient cover), and had a camera slung round his bull-think neck. They had their heads together, bent over an unruly map, talking quietly.

Feeling her eyes, the man lifted his head. He was fairly young, in his early twenties perhaps, and looked as if he'd stepped out of the pages of one of her 'Ancient Egypt' reference books. He waved at her.

Dumbfound she did the only thing she could; she waved back.

"Hey!" shouted the young man from across the street, "Could you tell me how to get to the NAC?"

Leigh limped into the apartment, planning to take a painkiller or three to banish the shin splint pains shooting through her right leg and the beginnings of a migraine.

Their apartment was almost too small to contain very thing they'd stuffed into it. It had five rooms; the bathroom, the bedroom (which the three of them all shared), two studies (which were supposed to be bedrooms), and the main room that served as a living room, dining room, a kitchen and an entrance hall all at once.

Jillian was there, sitting in a low desk in the corner of the room. She looked up from her work and smiled cheerfully, pen tip resting against the blue lined paper. "Hey!" she piped, oblivious to the ink blotch forming around the ink stained nib, "How was your day?"

Leigh paused thoughtfully, her backpack in one hand, her coat in the other. "Oh…not bad," she said nonchalantly, "I got you that book you were after. Ran into Ted. Said 'hi.' Bought some more toothpaste… Oh, and I just happened to see King Tut walking down Bank street. So, you know…just a plain old, average day."

"Tut?" enquired Jill, grinning, "Asking if Air Canada could get him back to Egypt by 3000B.C.?"

"No. Asking Bigfoot for directions to the NAC (A/N: National Arts Centre, in Ottawa, Ontario). So, how's that paper coming?"

"Good. It's--" Jillian cut off with a little shriek, jerking her essay out from beneath the old fashioned ink pen. She examined the black spot, dismally. "Oh, shit," she muttered, "Not again…"

Leigh gave her wryly look and, taking a small, recycled nail polish bottle down from a near by shelf, handed the witch the ink remover Estelle had made for exactly this purpose.

"Thanks," said Jillian ruefully, excepting the vessel, "Guess it really helps to have a Mage around here, eh?"

"It does."

Jillian used the nail polish brush to spread the translucent green liquid over the inkblots and smudges. The solution would dry clear and take the ink with it. Replacing the cap, she took a look a Leigh's face, "You were being serious about the King Tut thing, weren't you?"

The other teenager nodded, "I usually am."

Jill put her elbows on the desk and studied Leigh's face for any hint of cynicism. Jillian was a pretty girl, blond hair pulled back in a neat bun, her blue eyes clear and bright. Wearing a loose fitting tank top, a red skirt and a pair of Estelle's big woollen socks (-why, Leigh didn't know-), Jill was obviously having one of those 'laze-around-the-house-and-eat-chips/get-around-to-work-later' days. Huddled down in her lap was a small, grey, floppy eared bunny named Cabby, Jill's helpful little familiar. Jillian's second familiar, a grey and brown stripped tabby cat named Rabbit was curled up in a near by chair, fast asleep.

"So," Jill muttered, "You saw an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh and Bigfoot strolling casually down Bank Street, Ottawa?"

"Jibs," growled Leigh, warningly, using an old nickname for her friend, "The high school principle is an ogre! The book store owner? A hobgoblin! What's King Tut and Bigfoot to Ottawa's magical community? Is it _really_ that unbelievable?"

Jillian frowned, "I guess not. But you're making an awful big fuss about it. What's wrong?"

Leigh wandered over to the window. Looking out from their eleventh story apartment windows, they could easily see most of Ottawa. Focusing on the Rideau Canal, the redhead took her time formulating a reply. Jillian sat, stroking Cabby, patiently awaiting a response. "I just have a…a bad feeling…a _very_ bad feeling…" The faerie Skilly woman turned back to the young witch, "I know something is wrong…something is very wrong, but I don't know what. Tut just made me think about it… Brought it to mind… but I don't know why!" She gestured vague with a long nailed hand, "It just a…_feeling_…a raw instinctive feeling that I can't shake…" Her hand tightened into a fist, nails digging into her palm. She brought her hand down on the windowsill, frustrated.

Jillian put Cabby on the desk and stood. "And you think your Tut has something to do with this 'bad feeling'?"

"Not this Tut, himself, just something about him."

Jillian looked, mock regretfully, at her nearly dried essay. "This will just have to wait, I guess," she said, cheerily, rolling the parchment up and stuffing it into one of the desk drawers, "I'll scry for the source of your _dire intuition_."

Leigh grinned, "Thanks! You're a life saver!"

Something rapped on the window pane. The Fay girl open the window and a large black raven flapped into the room, flying to the top of the tallest bookcase and well out of reach. "Hey!" snapped Leigh, standing on a chair to lift her arm up to the bird. The raven regarded her slowly, then hopped onto her wrist. Brandy-Eye was one of Estelle's familiars… and she seemed to hold herself in very high regards.

Leigh jumped back down and stroked the raven's glossy feathers. Then she noticed the small letter tube tied to the bird's scaly leg, "Oh. Got a letter?" she reached for the massage tube and got nipped, "Ow! Hey!" Leigh put her finger in her mouth. "Speaking of whom…" she addressed Jillian, "Where _is_ Estelle?"

"I don't know," replied the witch, picking Cabby up and cradling him in the crook of her elbow, "It's Est! She just sort of disappears when she wants to and comes back later. When she's missing, no one can find her!"

"She just fades."

"Fades? Is that what it's called?"

"What? The spell to draw attention away from something? Yeah, fades. Because it removes others' attentiveness from a spot and that whole area just kind… well… _fades_…from our awareness."

"Oh! I didn't know that."

"I'm back!" As if on cue, the fore-mentioned mage stepped through the door and doffed her coat.

"Hey! Where've you been?" demanded Jillian. Brandy-Eye cawed and flapped her wings, losing a few broken, stray bits of feathers. Leigh turned her head away to avoid getting slapped across the face as the big raven launched herself off her wrist and flew to Estelle.

"Oh, just out," said Estelle absently, holding out one dark arm to catch Brandy-Eye, "Have you got a letter for me, girl?" Estelle was the shortest of the three by a hand, barely five feet tall. She was dark, of Indian-English back ground. Her hair was long and her eyes (beneath a pair of green rimmed spectacles) were vague and wistful. She looked older than her mere sixteen.

The mage untied the small plaster tube from Brandy-Eye's leg (without getting nipped, Leigh noted enviously) and quick read the tiny piece of paper inside. "Well?" enquired Jillian after a minute. Estelle was frowning, she dark forehead creased.

"Do you guys know who Albus Dumbledore is?"

"_Yes_! How could we not?" Leigh turned to Jillian, accusingly.

"Hey! He wrote some really good books!" said Jillian, defensively.

"All of which Estelle and I don't need to read any more, because you've summarized them all for us, in great detail, a _hundred times_!"

"Well--!… Just shut up!"

"Hey!" Estelle glared at both of them. "Leigh, remember how you were looking for a summer job?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…in short. We've _all_ just gotten a summer job."

**TBC…**

So? Is it any good? I know this chapter just has OCs but I didn't want to make it really long. Next chapter will be Mummies Alive only, promise!

Note: For anyone who's lost on the classes of magic user, there are 3 main types of magic user in this story; Mage, Witch and Skilly.

1) Mages like Estelle, use raw magic to do spells. There magic is often very noticeable and they excel at potions and spiritual work (i.e. summoning). They use long-winded speeches as spells.

2) Jillian is a witch like Hermione; she uses a wand, simple, Latin-based spells, etc. She'd b in Hogworts if she lived in England instead of Canada.

3) Leigh is a Faerie Skilly woman. Their magic is often very subtle and they have excel at making things like brooms and amulets. Their spells are short, rhyming lines, usually made on the spur of the moment. They usually have animalistic instincts.


	2. Only Darkness Beneath Their Hoods

**Chapter 2: Only Darkness Beneath Their Hoods**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mummies Alive (wish I did, but I don't)._

Presley wished it would just hurry up and rain already. It was incredibility hot, and the humidity was making the heat truly unbearable. The overcast sky, filled by thick boiling black clouds, threatened to drown San Francisco at any moment, but so far not a drop had fallen. It had been like this for nearly a week.

But at lest there was one thing to look forward to; school was out in five days! And with summer here at long last, Presley would finally be able to relax and have some fun and he wouldn't be to only one; Ja-Kal, a perpetual worrier, would be much at ease with Presley out of classes and under their watch more often.

Not that it won't be fun to spend more time with the four mummies; Armon would frequently be asking to go to Beefy Burger and would make pancakes and French toast every other day. Nefer-Tina would get into an argument with Rath at lest once a week, and every time the scribe began muttering indigently about how short the modern day school year was or that Presley should be attending his studies instead of lollygagging about, she would usher the boy outside, requesting he teach her to play basketball and they'd both leave just in time too catch the first of Rath's exasperated shouts. Once a week they'd all go out fishing or star gazing or just down to the beach and Ja-Kal would lunch into a vivid narrative about Egypt back in ancient times, that would captivate them all for hours.

Presley picked up his pace, smiling slightly as he remembered the mummy's last tale about the day his four year old nephew, Kimas, just about gave them all a heart attack when he'd proudly shown his mother and aunt the large tarantula he had caught, unaware that both women were highly arachnophobia.

He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. His mother would be worried if he didn't get home soon. He'd eat dinner, do his homework and take a shower. After that he'd go to bed and in the morning take the bus to school and repeat the whole thing over again, until that last day of school when, with exams ahead, he'd study like mad for two days and after that be finished for the year. There'd be no more homework, no more getting up ridiculously early to catch the bus, no more classes. He couldn't wait!

He walked down the street, catching his reflection in large shop windows. In the last three and a half years Presley had grown from the gawky twelve year old he'd been when he'd met the Mummies. Though still slim and wiry, he had begun to fill out. He was taller now and showed promise of growing up to be as big as Ja-Kal once fully grown. Wearing a pair of plain blue jeans and a white t-shirt, he still wore the green backpack that had become like a faithful friend in the last few years and the golden amulet of Prince Rapses. His voice was deeper, too, and Nefer-Tina still liked to poke a little good-natured fun at him every now and then about the first time his voice had cracked and, half way through bellowing an angry threat at Scarab, he gone from boyishly high-pitched to 'growling like a bear' (which had partly ruined the effected of the statement).

_Flash…BOOM!_

Presley jumped, startled from his thoughts, as the thunder clap half deafened him. "Man," he gasped, laughing ruefully, "That just about gave me a heart attack!" Looking up at the thick layer of rolling, bubbling clouds that blanketed the sky, he quickly decided that the fastest way to get home would be to stop by the Sphinx and ask Nefer-Tina to give him a ride to his house.

Keeping a wary eye on the storm above him, it took Presley a moment to realize he wasn't as alone as he had thought.

It was the sound that caught his attention first, the sound of _something_ out in the darkness sucking in a long, slow, rattling breath. Presley froze. The light had dimmed around him, plunging the empty street into darkness.

The thing inhaled again, much closer.

He twisted around, and paled as a flash of lightning momentarily lit up the boulevard. A cloaked and hooded figure towered above him, twelve feet tall and faceless…

It lunged at him, stretching out a slimy, grey hand.

Presley didn't wait for it.

He dropped, scrapping his hands and elbows. The hooded creature flew over his head. Straightening, he spun awkwardly on his knees. The thing reoriented itself in the air and rushed at him again. Presley rolled out of the way and sprang up.

Something drew a long, rattling breath behind him.

Presley didn't bother to look around. One hand wrapped around his amulet as he raced down the street, away from the creature. He could hear it following.

"Guys," he told the amulet and the humid night air in front of him, "I could _really_ use some help _right now_!"

Abruptly, it started to pour.

The mock small-scale Sphinx stood out on a lonely stretch of the street, made stark and foreboding by the storm raging around it, filling the regal face above the entrance with sinister purpose. Inside, four sarcophagi stood still and silent, their ancient occupants slumbering deeply.

Ja-Kal's amulet beeped warningly, flashing red. The hunter jerked awake, banging his knees on the lid of his sarcophagus. Disoriented, for a moment Ja-Kal stared down groggily at the blinking amulet resting on his chest.

Then he realized what was going on.

He flung open the coffin's heavy lid, and stumbled across the low plateau the four sarcophagi stood on. Rath was already ahead of him. "Up!" Ja-Kal cried, leaping down the steps, "The Prince is in danger!"

Presley fell hard, bloodying his already battered hands. He wasted no time swinging his fist at the creature behind him. His knuckles collided with something that felt unquestionably decrepit with a sickening, muffled '_snap_,' like the sound made when someone puts their foot though an only partially rotted log.

As the thing fell back, the young American resisted the almost over powering urge to be sick and leapt to his feet. Turning to momentarily face the direction he'd just come from, a white flash of lightning briefly illuminated the street before plunging the area back into shadows and darkness. The half-second of luminosity presented a ghostly scene that could have tumbled off the very pages of a Lovecraft novel. The creatures, maybe a dozen of them, glided along the ground like phantoms, their tattered robes trailing behind them lazily, moving as if under water. A cold pale fog hung around them, rolling and boiling beneath their ghastly forms. They moved with no sense of urgency or haste; they weren't in any sort of hurry.

A dark sense of despair had settled in the pit of Presley's stomach. He turned and froze. A ragged twelve foot tall, cloaked figure stood under a street lamp twenty feet ahead of him.

The dark cowl swung towards him.

He felt numb.

Presley desperately tried to tear his eyes away from the darkness inside the tattered hood, but it seemed beyond him. It began to approach him. It seemed almost smug; it had won. As it drew closer, the reincarnated prince caught a shadowy glimpse of its mouth, a stark featureless, toothless slit in a smooth, eyeless face. It reached for him, lowering its head slowly, and…

…Flung him aside abruptly, flailing around in pain. The arm of its robe was on fire. Amid the yellow tongued flames with a slim, metallic golden arrow, with a barbed head. One of Ja-Kal's arrows.

The hunter, fully armoured and bow raised, alighted down beside Presley and crouched, never taking his eyes off the street in front of him. "My Prince, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What _are_ those things?" asked Nefer-Tina jumping out of the Hot-Ra as the vehicle came to a screeching halt in front of them.

"I'm not so sure I want to know," muttered Armon, peering at the ghostly shapes uncertainly.

The four Guardians stood in a rough circle around the reincarnated prince as the spectres, regaining courage, began to encroach on the five again. As one ventured too close, Rath lashed out at it. The scribe's sword plunged into its tattered robes with a muffled, sickly thud. The creature backed off, hissing angrily, but seemed unharmed.

"Brilliant," muttered Rath, pulling back into the circle, "Isn't that just bloody brilliant."

Another one came close, lunging at Nerfer-Tina. With a cry of surprise and fear, the charioteer flung her whip into the creature's face. Armon swung his heavy golden arm and knocked two from the air. Another caught fire as Ja-Kal loosed a second arrow.

Still they were being pressed in.

"This isn't working!" said Nefer-Tina, hiding her fear with aggravation. She stomped her foot, "It's not fair! We can't hurt them!"

"We need to get the Prince to safety," growled Ja-Kal, "On three, we'll go for the Hot-Ra." Hearing no protests, he started to count, "One…"

The ghostly monsters drew closer, becoming an almost solid wall around them.

"Two…"

Abruptly a voice somewhere in the darkness calmly stated, "_Expecto patronum!_"

**TBC**

Blah! Lame ending but I kinda got lost, eh? Anywho, sorry I took so long to update! Thanks for reviewing, Jibs! See ya soon.


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